


And then there were none

by Tashilover



Category: Cabin Pressure, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cabinlock, Crack Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 10:34:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tashilover/pseuds/Tashilover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end, Arthur fulfills a fantasy.</p><p> </p><p>A CabinLock crack fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And then there were none

"There's only sixteen seats," John said, looking over the plane. He kept twisting his head, left to right, back to front, scrutinizing every little detail. "Do I smell lemon?"

Sherlock said nothing, though he was agreeing with everything John was saying. The plane was so old, he was surprised nobody bothered to put it out of its misery. If he looked out the window, he could see the badly done paint job of  _MJN_  on the wing. He had no idea why Mycroft wanted them to take this specific flight. Nobody but them were on the plane.

"I need a drink," John hissed, shaking his head. "I hope the drink's cart will be by soon."

A few minutes in, the familiar sound of the drink's cart rattled down the aisle. A cheerful-looking young man pushed it along, humming a quiet tune. "Hello," he said, stopping at their seats. "I'm Arthur, your Steward, and I'm here to-"

He suddenly paused. "OH!" He said, his eyes going wide. "OH!"

He was definitely staring at Sherlock. Sherlock raised an eyebrow at the noise.

Arthur looked to the front, looked back and said, "I'll be right back!" And he ran off to the front of the plane.

"...that was weird," John said. "Do you know him?"

"I don't recognize him," said Sherlock. "Nothing about him is familiar. He's thirty, lives with his mother, has a dog-"

"Yes, yes, I get it. He seems to recognize  _you_ , though."

Less than a minute later, Arthur came barreling back down the aisle. He was dragging two men behind him, who were both yelling to 'Let go!' and "Arthur, what hell-?'

He didn't release their arms until they stopped right in front of John and Sherlock. "TA-DA!"

The shorter man jerked his arm away, huffing. After a quick adjustment to his  _enormous_  hat, he stared down at Sherlock, scrutinizing him. After a quick assesment, he yelled at Arthur, "He looks nothing like me!"

"I don't know, Martin," said the taller, older man. He was staring too. "He might be a good looking older brother. A good looking younger brother. A good looking cousin-"

"Yes, I get it, Douglas!"

"He's also very posh," the man, Douglas, continued as though John and Sherlock weren't listening to the entire conversation. "Tell me something sir, how much does your coat cost?"

"Douglas! That's very rude!" Martin turned to them. "I apologize for my First Officer's attitude. I hope neither of you were too offended, and I hope-"

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"

Everyone turned to the voice. An older woman was screaming from the back, looking absolutely stunned. "If you two dolts are back here,  _who's_   _flying the plane_?"

Douglas and Martin shared a look. Then they bolted towards the front.

John and Sherlock shared a look. They started grabbing at their seat belts, snapping them on.

 

 

 

 

As Arthur Shappey adjusted the air attitude for the tenth time, ignoring the pounding at the door and the pleading, he reached over and grabbed Skip's aviator glasses. He put them on.

"AWWWWWWWWW YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"


End file.
